


Of Sunflowers

by sugarby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru likes to think of himself as the Sun and that, like his favourite flower, Hajime will always be loyal to him, that they will never leave each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> _Another story I've kept to myself for a while and the first contribution of mine for iwaoi. Even though I wanted to release this earlier now's a good time because Summer's here and this story is (ideally) set during this time of year. For once, I've written in first-person-narrative and there's no particular reason for it._
> 
> Happy Summer Holidiays! :) 

**#1**

 

August, Summer, and we're young.

  
It's hot. I hear Cicadas all over, from a mighty distance and surprisingly nearby. I'm wiping so much sweat from my forehead every now and then I can't keep focus on any memories of rain or other low-temperature weathers to cool me, they're like far away, hazy dreams. On this hot, Summer day, the sun hangs up high in a smooth, wide brush of peaceful blue and splatter of clouds, the whitest and fluffiest ever.

  
Even though it's so hot, I don't mind the arm of sweaty skin clinging next to mine, nor the hand that's clutched around my own. It's shaking a little, it wants to show bravery, but in the brown eyes I'm able to see through and in to so well, there's resentment, panic, dread. My hand clutches his in silent clarification that I won't let go.

  
"What'd you say you've found?" I query.

  
Wakatoshi jams a thumb over his shoulder in the direction behind him, parted trees and a path ahead leading into a creek, not too far from his family's red-painted barn-house we're visiting for the Summer. "Back through here, I spotted a peculiar, winged insect."

  
"Really?!" I gasp, my eyes wide in wonder and excitement. "What'd it look like?!" Tooru watches the way my face lights up and his grip on my hand starts to loosen.

  
"I can show you, presuming you're still in to this hobby..." Wakatoshi sounds oddly unsure for someone who is so often strongly convinced of their own beliefs they scarcely leave room to even consider other opinions. Anyway, he 'presumes' because the three of us have known each other a while but hardly meet him any more, but because we know each other, I think he's taking a go at making a joke, asking me if I'm still interested in bugs.

  
But that's unlike Wakatoshi, to be comical unironically. Even I know that about him. The three of us camped out in his back garden once, under the stars and in tents, whispering dark stories while we binged on sugary treats 'borrowed' from the kitchen, filling our mouths with so much to make our stomachs ache satisfactorily and suspend us to sleep. Where's this story leading to? It's to the realization that I do, at least, consider him a friend—a distant one but still; meanwhile, Tooru can't really stick him (the only reason he's come along again this Summer is because I do the usual: drag him out of his bedroom and away from his unhealthy plan to invest hours upon hours in to computer gaming and staying up late to look through his telescope for irregular signs of other life. And though he whines and swears injustice, there's little point in leaving him be, I know he won't cope on his own).

  
Tooru's shaking of his hand intensifies then all at once tightens around mine and I nearly jump in surprise. Next I'm being tugged because he means to pull me back from the offer, from Wakatoshi altogether. Before I take the chance to calm him, he explodes in Wakatoshi's face with a strange accusation, then our backs are turned on him and we're dashing away, escaping into a thick field of tall, well-bloomed Sunflowers that are too tall and too thick for either of us to see through or over—probably not even if one of us sits atop the other's shoulders.

  
We don't know our way around, neither, still I let him lead us around further, deeper, desperate to get us away, pushing forward to outrun something unwanted. We're two, young boys lost in a field of bright yellows and greens with browns, yet I simply let him. He eventually quits when his stamina is drained and I get control of my arm back. We slow down to a stop in what I figure to be around the middle of the field and hunch over as we furiously try to claim back our breaths.

  
"Idiot!" I manage to insult him in between with no real venom. "What, _hah_ , what the heck was that?!" Instead of consoling my grief over our being lost by actually answering he only stands there and shrugs the question off his shoulders with a hopeless smile, and I call him an idiot again in my head. A soft, quiet breeze comes by and feels cool against our sweaty skin, and it nearly has me scream when it makes a Sunflower lean out to me from behind. I grunt and swat it away, "These things are everywhere, jeez!"

  
Tooru laughs, "Obviously. Look," he point a finger upwards, "The Sun's out." When I try to look at it and blink a thousand times he laughs again.

  
"...Yeah, my dad said today's forecast would be good."

"...Sunflowers," Tooru's lips orchestrate in to a sparkling smile. "They're big, tall, and look hideous to a lot of people, but they're loyal. They're always looking to the Sun." He turns to me, the best friend befuddled by his invention, "And the Sun always watches over them." They were once ordinary plants like any other, then he gave them a brighter meaning. "And so, there you have it. The Sun is a part of the universe—something much bigger than you or me. And by that fact, you aren't allowed to ditch me for Ushiwaka-chan!"

  
"Is that why you grabbed my hand and took off? And why shouted something really bizarre at him?"

  
"I've always wanted to say that to someone! Alwaaays~!" Tooru seems relentlessly proud of his 'achievement', his fingers winding in to fists and frantically shaking in the air.

  
"Your idea of entertainment is _twisted_." I deadpan.

  
"That may be so, but it was so fun to see the look on his face!" I think that's nice and all for him but I'm plagued by his strange question now: _'Who wants to see an icky, yucky bug? Ushiwaka-chan, were you raised in a barn?!'_ and at the time I thought _'yes, since he visits his grandparents...who live on a farm'_.

  
I'm just a kid, so I don't know a lot about what-could-be's and what-might-be's or even what I'll eat for breakfast tomorrow, but I wonder about us in the future, and about how his feelings will turn out. Today we're running away in to a field of Sunflowers. What about tomorrow? I think about it with no intention of asking because it's doubtful that even Tooru Oikawa, also a twelve-year old child himself, will have an idea about something far ahead in life.

  
We count on the adults—Wakatoshi's parents and grandparents—to find us while we lay on our backs in the field and talk until the sky turns dark and the stars come out to twinkle above our heads.

 

_*  *  *_

 

**#2**

 

Tooru and I were in a play once in Elementary school about the four seasons.

  
He was cast as one of the main flowers for Spring and had to sing and dance with the other flower-clad classmates even though he thought the choreography of stepping side to side in repetition was tedious, never-mind its 'child-friendly' level of difficulty. Then, four weeks in to rehearsals, he stops dancing, he stops singing, and he tells the whole class and the teachers in the auditorium that he wants to be the Sun who is always admired by the Sunflower. I'm a little surprised I didn't remember this back when we were in a field of them, because this was technically the first mention of his analogy, but I and everyone else there thought it was...very nearly nothing.

  
But that was his logic. He liked the idea of something always being loyal and he wanted that for himself. That was some ambition for a child, I thought, even for him. And nothing's changed along the years as we've grown and come in to our third year of High School. In fact, its only further fueled the attitude he's picked up. And God help the rest of us in our school's Volleyball Club, which he, frighteningly, is the Captain of. We're exhausted from a heavy practice match, trying to catch back our breaths and chug down the water from our bottles fast enough to feel cool, and he still has energy to talk a lot of crap—'cause that's what he seems to be about a lot these days.

  
Tooru takes stage in an ordinary gymnasium, makes it his own in a serious pose and dramatic portrayal of how a Captain thanks and praises his team, arms spread, too, like a legit performer. "Gentlemen! Friends! Teammates and Coach! Well played today, it was very nice game indeed. I may not tell you often, and someday...I won't be able to anymore," he sniffles and sweeps a finger under his eye like he's holding back tears. He talks like he's a dying patient, not a young man months away from graduating and leaving for College. "But just keep in your hearts that I, your amazing Captain, am proud of each and every one of you, my dear Sunflowers!"

  
_'That again'_ , I think distastefully and watch the second and first years look at him with a mix of emotions but bagging mostly confusion and mild discomfort; they're the same as me, then, I take it. Or just sane enough to react accordingly, and not stand and clap for an encore of pretentious nonsense. "Leave your weird analogy out, Trashikawa!" I yell.

  
"But it's the Captain's duty to—"

  
"Just bottle it!"

  
Tooru's lips pull in to a sour pout but he lets the performance rest, sends the team off to pack up and go home while he commits to staying awhile, joining me on a bench across the room. I can tell he's tired like the rest of us and even he can't stop his body from showing signs of fatigue, but he waits for me regardless. Sometimes he waits just for everyone else to leave so he can spend extra hours practicing by himself, over-working and unnecessarily over-compensating when there isn't just one person on a team, when he's already...amazing.

  
"He contacted me again." he says so out of the blue I nearly miss him altogether. I'm familiar with who he's talking about so it's not much of a guess when I say his name. Tooru nods to confirm it, sighing as he's generally left exhausted by the relentless calls. "He didn't even compliment me this time. Just said the same old crap. I was in the shower at the first call last night, then I come out, take his second call and I don't feel refreshed anymore." he sighs again and slumps forward, looking like talking about Wakatoshi dis-enables his pretense of liveliness. "His approach is always the same, that I'm strong but the team is weak."

  
" _Tch_. Bastard." I hiss in heated breath.

  
"Whoa! What's this? You're actually insulting your friend?"

  
"I insult _you_ all the time. And he's _our_ friend."  
  
  
"He and I aren't friends. _I_  am _not_ friends with the likes of _him_ , thank you!"

  
"Oh really? Tell me why you still show up to his birthday party every year in a row?"

  
"Well I can't let you go _alone_! What kind of friend would I be?!"

  
" _Right_. Tell me why you still have his number in your phone."

  
"Friends are kept close but enemies are kept even closer!"

  
"Okay. You can sleep in his bed next time you ' _just feel like it_ '," as on occasions, he becomes spontaneous at night and winds up at my door, in my house, at the foot of my bed with my feet beside his head. We never do sleep instantly, even though I'm always on my way until he shows up; we talk until we're tired enough to babble and the last things we see and hear before we close our eyes and rest are pieces of each other.

  
"My God! No! I bet he snores. He looks like he does, or takes up too much space on the bed."

  
"Why don't you go ahead and find out?"

  
Tooru's knee nudges in to mine, "Stop it, that's not funny! Everything's all part of my plan to find and exploit his weaknesses so I can ruin his life!" I wonder if people usually dedicate so much of their time and effort to people who aren't their friends. No, I don't think so. But I think we both know this and that I'm thinking about it, judging by the way His eyes roll. "I swear—I'm telling you, I hate that guy!"

  
"Yeah, yeah." I mutter in the sort of way sympathetic people do. "Well keep looking for his secrets in the four pieces of cake you scoff down each time—" Tooru loudly gasps. "—and no doubt you'll strike gold." He huffs and crosses his arms. To be fair, the cakes at the birthday party are always tasty; they're creamy and jammy and sweet on the lips like something unforgettable and magic).

  
"The more cake I take, the less he gets! There, birthday ruined! And before you go on about it, if you're gonna mention the selfies the three of us take every time at the end of it, they're for blackmailing purposes, okay?! It only takes a little sprucing on Photoshop—"

  
"You're good."

  
"I've taken, like, one go at it—"

  
"No." I stop him because I all of a sudden mean something else, something more real than screwing around with pictures. "...He's right. You _are_ good. At Volleyball. Very."

  
"I know, but you're not weak."

  
"Thanks."

  
Tooru scoffs and slowly shakes his head at me, "My loyalty to you will never need a thank you." I wait for a punch-line to that statement that sounds all too serious to come from him, but apparently there isn't one.

  
We've been the only ones left in the gym all this time, talking among ourselves so casually, I forgot that other people exist until a first-year comes hurrying inside, anxiously holding on to his own ball. I can tell Tooru's already invested in watching him closely; the dark-haired, ambitious and naturally-talented first year has rubbed him the wrong way since day one—enough to bring him to violently lash out. I can understand being sensitive about your own place within a team, especially when everyone's praising someone else, someone younger. There's just no way I can let my best friend feel like that again, like he's easily exchangeable.

  
I nudge him with an elbow, "Hey, be nice to the first year."

  
"I _am_ nice."

  
"Be even _nicer_ , Jackass."

  
"It's not my fault. Tobio-chan just has the worst timing, always bothering me when I'm busy."

  
"I've told you before that you're over-working yourself—"

  
"If I don't keep up, if I'm not at my best then, well...I can't toss and receive like he can."

  
"Tell me you're joking. It isn't like you to talk yourself down."

  
"It's true." Tooru admits like there's no other way, but then it's from here his capricious mood turns playful, annoying. He winks, "But you're welcome to say otherwise and compliment me all you like."

  
"Go to hell, you bastard." I spit, but he only starts singing all the ways I can compliment him: _'Oh, what gorgeous eyes you have. Oh, what beautiful legs you have. And Lord almighty, you're unbelievably good loo—'_ I stick my hand in his face and push him back, "Listen, you, just quit over-working yourself! The team need's six players on the court, not one! Quit trying to hog the stage all for yourself and rely on your teammates for a change, huh?! If you keep doing whatever you want and wind up too hurt to play, I'll kill you myself!"

  
"Well then I still won't be able to play." He comments smugly. My hand clenches around his face, pinching his cheeks and lips together, making him squirm around. "Mwokay, mwokay, mmshowy! I'll shwut up and whisten, I sshwear! Carefwul, you'll bwoose my hanshum face!"

 

_*  *  *_

 

**#3**

 

I reckon everyone's got a word or two that triggers panic and then sets them off on an escalation of, what feels like, self-destruction. That's how I see it, anyway, how it feels to me; feelings like panic, grief, they and my heart plummet to my stomach, right in my gut where all the other repressed emotions lie when feels too hard to breathe. It's torturous—and the miraculous thing is that this is all for someone else; the feeling of drowning, of desperation, of a thunderous weight keeping you, they don't come around unless there's someone you care about.

  
The words that set you off can change. This time, for me, it's 'car accident', then 'Hospital', with my best friend's name in the same sentence.

  
After, things seem like they go on in a whir, don't they? It's like they just hop from one scene to the next, and you're awake yet it just passes you by. I'm answering an unexpected call from a woman I don't recognize, next I'm running down the street, riding inside a cab, hurtling through pristine hallways and just getting by avoiding the doctors, nurses and patients along the way. I'm totally inconsiderate and should slow down but...and I should I feel like I ought to not be surprised because Tooru's always getting in to trouble—usually by running his mouth. But it's different this time, it's not his fault; some careless driver failed to see him, as bright as he is; some other inconsiderate person besides myself was driving their truck too Goddamn fast and they happened to knock in to my best friend.

  
Throwing open the double-doors to the right room, I burst inside and immediately hunch over, breathless. 

  
"Oh?...H-Hello?" a surprised, feminine voice says. I manage to angle my head up in my awkward position to see a Nurse I've startled, light-haired and fair skinned and rosy-cheeked with her green eyes on me but body facing the assortment of flowers she's in the middle of arranging on the bedside table, colorful and big and bright, a Sunflower right in the center, too, go figure.

  
I hear Tooru before I see him lying on the bed, one foot in a cast and held up, a cheek patched with a band-aid. "You look like you've been running away from the end of the world."

  
I find that, even though I've given myself more time, when I stand and straighten myself, my heart isn't isn't done racing. I sound as unbalanced as I was coming here, gaps where I pant. "Y-Yeah...well, I was...in the neighborhood and...jogging to the store...in case it was out of those...those snacks I like..."

  
"You ran. For snacks?"

  
"Yeah. What's it to 'ya?"

  
"And here I am lying in the hospital!"

  
The nurse senses an unusual vibe coming from the two of us and is smart enough to excuse herself but with promise to return to check on the patient. I nod at her as she passes.

  
"So, were they out?"

  
"What?"

  
"Of the snacks you like. That you ran for."

  
"Shut up. You know I wouldn't—I mean, we both know I didn't..." I pause for a moment, put my hands on my hips and we square off, giving each other the same skeptical look in our little game. I lose from impatience. "What the heck happened to you?! Who taught you how to cross the road 'cause I wanna know 'cause they can't have had enough brain cells! You hardly have any!" here Tooru cuts in with a sarcastic 'uh, thanks' and I keep rolling. "I mean, saving someone's life is one thing—it's an _honorable_ thing, but very stupid as well! Jesus, don't you know?!"

  
"Calm down, _mom_." Tooru says. I come over with the threat to hit him, he quickly holds out his hands in defense and apologizes. I relax and my fist falls but we don't say anything else, I just stand there like I'm lost. He turns his head to the vase of flowers, admiring them. A smile comes out on his face as he's drawn to the single flower nestled in the middle of them. "Sunflowers. They appear big and tall and hideous to a lot of people but they're very loyal. Their name sounds like they hold the entire attention of our world's light, solely for themselves. And in return, the Sun always showers them in warmth and brightness."

  
I've listened to him go on about this again and again and it's funny how if things had gone differently today, my best friend, who talks about loyalty, about us staying together through everything, could've left me.

  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." I comment while taking off my jacket and throwing it down on the chair I drag over to sit beside him on. Next, I throw a bag of convenience store goods over to him. "Get this lot down your throat before you keep talking nonsense." I advise and watch him rifle through the bag, picking up this and that and tearing open packets and containers to consume what he can. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he hadn't been in any accident from saving a little girl. Speaking of which, I think I should at least ask, "So, uh, how's the girl doing?"

  
"She's fine."

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Yeah." Tooru breaks off a square of chocolate to chuck inside his mouth, chewing gratefully. He elaborates after the first piece goes down smoothly and sweetly, "Just a scratch, a bit shaken. She came to see me—gave me a big cuddle and told me that I'm her hero and that she's gonna write about me for her class assignment. Her parents thanked me, too. They told me I'm amazing."

  
I imagine they must've done. After stepping in between a truck and someone's nine-year old daughter, I bet even almighty Gods would build a pedestal mighty and taller than theirs for my best friend.

  
"Thank God you came here with goodies! The food here tastes awful. Don't they know I like nice things?!"  
  
  
"I'll let them know on my way out. How dare they serve you the same food as everyone else instead of a plethora of the finest confectionery?"  
  
  
"Hardy har. You can just reimburse me later. with a lot more."

  
"I don't think so."

  
"And carry me on your back everywhere I need to go now my leg's broken."

  
"You can fuck off."

  
"My crutches suck, you know."

  
" _You_ suck!"

  
Tooru sees we've come to a playful impasse and 'compromises', "Alright, alright. Just a dozen loaves of milk bread then. Whenever I want, no matter if it's day or night."

  
I lean over to lock his head under my arm, which he immediately struggles and fails to break out from. "Or how about a dozen hits to the head? What is it you always say? 'If I'm gonna hit it, make sure it _breaks_ '."

  
"Ah, in that case, you can just forget about everything! Haha, really, the chocolate you bought me is delicious enough, thank you!"

 

_*  *  *_

 

**#4**

 

Several months later we're in college together, with separate majors besides gym and the compulsory classes, and Tooru thinks he's already got his priorities in check. He attends the common-room meetings and shows his face at rallies, but ultimately he's thinking of doing something bigger. He discusses it with me while he finishes unpacking in our dormitory; I listen to his idea that sounds so spontaneous it's ludicrous, but apparently, being loyal to Tooru Oikawa means supporting his abrupt interest in the music industry and contemplation on majoring in a class for it.

  
"There's so much more in my life I could be! Oh my gosh! I could be an idol!"

  
"You're crazy. You haven't thought this through."

  
"Probably not," He at least admits, "But listen— _imagine_ it! Imagine _me_ glamorous and cool in music videos!" He lets me have a moment, which I use in the way he's asked me to. Tooru's face drops instantly like it's the sun setting. "You can't be doing it right, you look disturbed."

  
"No, no, I'm sure I'm picturing it exactly."

  
"How rude!"

  
"Do you even play an instrument?"

  
"Psh! I can learn!"

  
I help him take out a box from his wardrobe, and the instrument inside the box after, which he lays on his lap and gives a few experimental strums. By the first sound we figure it's older than he realized, dusty and drowsily out of tune. Neither of us are anything like decent musicians but we know it obviously needs sorting out. I'm about to suggest it until I see a wave of fear in Tooru.

  
"Um, hey..." he calls, eyeing the strings. "Pretty please, can you—"

  
"No. You do it."

  
"...A-Alright, I'll..." Tooru gulps and the whole room falls silent as he reaches toward the guitar, hand trembling like that Summer day when we were younger and lost in a field of metaphors and youthful babble. I quietly watch him, just as anxious and half-betting he'll back out at the last minute; I don't trust Tooru to do anything that'll chip his pretty nails, wreck his model-style hair, ruin his flashy clothes, mark his moisturized skin. He pinches the correct nozzle of the out of tune string and steadily turns it round, plucking the string briefly in-between for a sound test, feeling it tighten in its place. Round, round, pluck. Round, round, pluck, pluck. I wonder, since neither of us are knowledgeable as musicians, how he'll know when to stop tun—

  
"AH! Mother fu—" We hear the string snap before Tooru curses in pain. Moving backwards from the guitar, he cradles his sore hand that took the blow from the string's ricochet that felt akin to a whip of lightning. I'm as surprised as he is, a quiet witness to it and even his furious pacing that comes next.

  
"Hey, look...you're...musically challenged." I gently tell, and I mean it as nicely as possible, even as awful as it sounds coming from me. Tooru turns to me with a low-spirited expression. "Err, I mean— mean you hum those pop songs to adverts okay. You're just...when it comes to..." I'm not unsupportive but Tooru was once invested in a hamster ironically named Lucky but things didn't turn out that way and he cried about it for days; he gets impulsive and excited over things he picks up to just, intentionally or not, drop later. I see him do this as if to fill gaps in his life and despair when they don't seem to fit. This music business is similar to one of those but I overall think it's more related to the accident, the scary possibility that he could've been near death or actually—

  
"Ow!" Tooru whispers, taking his hand away from a self-assessing touch at another wave of pain that comes. He cradles it again, "It stings..."

  
I try not to roll my eyes, expecting he's exaggerating until I come over and check. I have to coax his other, protective hand away to let me see the red patch of skin with a swelling scratch across. I'm looked at by worrisome eyes, like a patient waiting for grave news from a doctor, but the injury is nothing. I give him the healthy diagnostic, "It will do for a while, but it'll heal." which eases him up, along with my thumb softly rubbing over the sore skin with all the care I can give.

 

_*  *  *_

 

I'm comforting him after his Sophomore girlfriend of several, short-lived weeks breaks things off with him. Apparently, it was always about making her ex-partner jealous the entire time, not the feelings of anyone she selfishly used. Tooru doesn't admit that he's even a little upset but I can tell from his sloppy posture on his couch, the weighty sighs, the repetitive action of running a hand through his haggard hair.

  
I bail on my plans to hang out at the movies with classmates when I first hear about he from his text; he hadn't specified the issue but asking if I could come back was a clear sign of something being wrong. So now here we are in our dorm, Tooru still nearly a statue on the couch and I'm bringing over our fresh cups of tea then sitting beside him. He takes his but just holds it. I take sips of mine, waiting for him to speak, but when the moment draws long I realize that waiting in this circumstance is watching the black mirror of our TV with him and listening to the rain hit the windows from behind.

  
Maybe it's a good thing I hadn't gone along to the cinema after-all.

  
"Forget about her." I vote when he still says nothing, thinking he's in fact waiting for me. "She's crazy to do that to you." When he at last does speak it's to remind me of the fact that I liked her, meaning I thought she was nice, that she was decent enough for a girl we didn't know as long we've known each other. I scoff at my own naivety, "I've known you nearly all my life, and that's that. Girls can come and ago, but I'll—"

  
"Exactly what do you know about the opposite sex? They don't look twice at you."

  
"That's because they see me but they _look_  at _you_. That's just how it is."

  
"The thing is...I'm not as sad as I should be about it." Tooru confesses, deflating forward with his knees to his chest and chin on top. "I unknowingly went along with her plan...because I was flattered to be chosen over a classmate of hers or a senior. Me, a freshman." He laughs in self-pity, "...I felt special."

  
"You are."

  
"Ha. Like an idiot?"

  
"That, too."

  
"Thanks."

  
This guy looks and sounds a little like my best friend but the Tooru I know has more irritating come backs than sarcastic gratitude; and he doesn't curl up feeling sorry for himself, neither. "What should I do then?" I ask for an alternative to talking trash about the girl who used my best friend and then threw him away. "Tell me, I'll—"

  
"I'm just tired, really. But I'll be fine. I _am_ fine."

  
"...So you don't want to eat ice-cream and surf the Sci-fi channel?"

  
"I didn't say that." Tooru mumbles through the sleeve of his shirt. I watch him slowly look up from his sock-covered feet to me, like he's coming back to reality, even if slowly. I know that must be it because he doesn't just stop at 'I didn't say that', no, he takes it all the way to, "Never did I ever and never _will_ I ever let such nonsense leave my mouth! What are you waiting for?! Quick, fetch the spoons!"

Just this once, I let him command me and in no time we're watching the latest supernatural documentary and cradling tubs of ice-cream in our laps.

  
"Thank you." It's so quiet I think I don't hear him or that I imagine it.

  
"Idiot. My loyalty to you doesn't need a thanks."

  
Tooru eyes me, an amused twinkle in his eye, an idea in his head. "...No, you're right. I suppose we're long past the words." his voice, little, considers just before he leans over to kiss me.

 

_*  *  *_

 

> Just before the adults came to get us (and scold us for wandering), we laid on our backs, looking up, our worries over being lost to the back of us and the analogy of a twelve-year echoing and putting something in to perspective.
> 
>   
>  "I was never gonna ditch you back there." I told him after a time of silence, of us just laying there with our thoughts to ourselves. He slowly turned his head to me, listening to my after-thoughts on his stunt. He might've thought I was mad at him for keeping me from seeing something interesting, but I didn't care all that much in the end. "...I would've...you know, taken you with me. I mean, you don't really cope well when you're by yourself..." I looked away, too shy to meet him at the time then; I was a youth confessing an honest emotion that I didn't know was called 'passion' back then.
> 
>   
>  Tooru's teeth came in to grinning view, "I'm just too cute to leave alone, huh?"
> 
>   
>  "Is that what you think I just said?! Check your hearing!"
> 
>   
>  "I'm not hearing a 'no', that's for sure."
> 
>   
>  "Whatever!...I guess it doesn't matter either way. I'm gonna be loyal to you." I was aware I sounded very determined for a twelve-year old, but I was so sure of myself that I thought not even the universe could deny me. "If you're the sun, I'll always look to you."
> 
>   
>  Together, we took each other's hands in our own and squeezed.

 

_*  *  *_

 

**#5**

 

Autumn, Summer, and we're still young to the rest of the world.

  
Being only early in our twenties, we're expected to have big plans ahead. Nothing's concrete yet but we're back on Wakatoshi's family's farm, with the same red-painted barn-house and open field.

  
Tooru rolls his shoulders to comfortably re-position the straps of his rucksack bag (packed full of 'daily necessities', according to him: lotions, sanitizer gel, a mirror and a hair brush). "Listen, Ushiwaka, I'm not a naive kid anymore. So there's no point in me running away because I'm confident that whatever icky thing you have to show," he points to our friend, sticks a finger right up in front of him between his eyes. "It won't beat your face."

  
Wakatoshi says, "Is that so?"

  
"Yep, totally!"

  
Wakatoshi looks to me. I shrug and feel somewhat apologetic on behalf of my best friend. "It beats getting lost in a field again," I say for argument's sake. "Come on, let's go."

  
Tooru says, "What? But—"

  
"I'll hold your hand if you get too scared."

  
"I wasn't scared back then and I'm not now! Hmph! Bug hunting. That kind of hobby you're in to won't get you in with women!"

  
"I'm not trying to, you idiot.

  
"If you're not like before, hold this in your hand." Wakatoshi challenges, bringing out from behind his back a thick shelled, squirming beetle, certain he'll call out the bluff.

  
"WHAT THE HECK?!" Tooru shrieks and practically runs a mile to shelter behind me. He glares at Wakatoshi and motions his hand to shoo him and his insect friend away. "How dare you?! Just jamming things like that in to people's spaces! I ask you again, were you fucking raised in your family's barn?!"

  
Wakatoshi replies, "Partly over the Summers, yes."

  
Tooru looks scandalized. It serves him right. He can't be mad and fault Wakatoshi for sounding like a smart-ass with such an honest answer like that. Tooru, being who he is, very well tries anyway. "What the heck?! You can't answer so seriously when I'm insulting you, otherwise I look awful!"

  
"You _are_." I say.

  
"How rude!

  
Wakatoshi joins in, "You aren't in a position to argue your cordiality."

  
"And _you_! Just stop it! Stop, this instance, trying to turn Iwa-chan against me!"

  
I wrap an arm around the twenty-something child to try and soothe him, "Come on, ease up."

  
"But he literally tried to get that thing to eat my face!" Tooru complains to me like a child would to an adult. I hear him out as we head on to the creek, thinking to myself that it's kind of cute when he uses 'literally' wrong.

  
"You're exaggerating," accuses Wakatoshi, walking on ahead of us.

  
Tooru immaturely flips him off and sticks out his tongue behind my back. I think about the fact that this is going to continue for the rest of the day and at the dinner table and that I'm going to be the mediator if a food fight breaks out. I have to lead him on in to the creek, following in Wakatoshi's steps as he maneuvers around the area he knows so well—years of adventuring out here. I take on Tooru's lie about not being too scared, letting him think he's convincing enough pressed up right behind me like a shadow, but hold his hand anyway because it makes him feel safer, because I know he looks to me the way I look to him.

**Author's Note:**

> _I haven't written this to necessarily be viewed as a romance story but just a view on a close bond, the sort of relationship I admire that can go either way, platonic or intimate. So the status of Toru and Hajime's relationship in the end is up to you._
> 
> _*I was in an Ushijima/Oikawa mood when I began this story and I like the idea of them and Iwaizumi being somewhat friends despite their rivalry (I don't completely care that they aren't each other's cups of tea, neither. It's thoughts like these that brew fanfics)._
> 
> _*The scene when Tooru is mindful of tuning his guitar and then struck by a string is based on the same incident happening to me. Now I hope someone else can do it in my place!_
> 
> _Thanks for reading! \\(^◡^ )_


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